


I Beg to Differ

by telethiastar



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst (?), Awkward Conversations, Awkward Tension, Character Study, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Denial of Feelings, Gen, Hhhhhhh, I Tried, I was bold enough to write this for my English class, Olberic is there to give Good Dad Advice, Olberic might be a bit OOC rip, SHOW YOUR FATHER SOME RESPECT, Team Bonding, Therion doesn't understand how a team works apparently, Therion has Anxiety, Therion is an edgy lil binch who doesn't want to listen to his dad, alternatively titled "Therion Doesn't Know How to Emotion Send Help", bless my thief son, can be interpreted as romantic if ya really wanna but that's not the focus here, i guess, implied/referenced spoilers, just a thief and his dad, they're just trying to understand each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 12:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16618961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telethiastar/pseuds/telethiastar
Summary: The warrior emerges from his thoughtful trance. “Forgive me, Therion.” A pause. Then, “Would you like to talk about it?”Therion almost chokes on his drink. “Excuse me?”“You are disturbed by the fact that I took a hit for you.”“Hell no.” He takes another sip of his ale. “Who says I’m bothered by it, anyway?”In which Therion still struggles to understand how anyone, much less Olberic, could possibly care about someone like him.





	I Beg to Differ

**Author's Note:**

> Heeeeeeey I'm back on my nonsense
> 
> I return to bring you what took me over a month to write because I was writing it in my English notebook and using it as journal entries. Hope you enjoy :V
> 
> Also: I have no idea how alcohol works, despite taking a health class last year. I apologize for any inaccuracies regarding Therion.

Therion empties his tankard of ale slowly, as if to magnify the effects of the drink. He entered the tavern not too long ago, but he’s just finished his third drink, and yet he doesn’t feel any less sober with each refill he orders. Perhaps that’s just his imagination, if the grave looks the barkeep is giving him are any indication. When Therion was asked what he wanted upon his frustrated approach, the thief merely grumbled, “The strongest thing you have,” and sat down. He wasn’t bothered since.

Therion stares at the bottom of his mug, a dark expression crossing his features. He taps the wooden counter anxiously, his brows furrowing more with every passing second. Finally, he raises his hand to signal for the barkeep, but stops short when he hears the doors barging open behind him, as if by the force of a great beast.

He turns around, and his eyes meet with none other than Olberic Eisenberg.

 _Fantastic_. He was hoping to escape his problem, but all he’s managed to do is leave a trail for it to follow him, like a hunter tracking their quarry. With a sigh, he swiftly turns back around, as if it will make him any less visible to the ex-knight. A futile effort, but an effort nonetheless.

Olberic finally joins him, and Therion suddenly feels a strong sense of dread, like a child about to be scolded by their parents. He shifts in his seat uncomfortably, not daring to even look at his fellow traveler. There’s another minute of awkward silence before it is broken by Olberic.

“So,” he begins, his tone casual. “I take it there is something bothering you?”

Therion shoots him a look. “What do you think?”

The ex-knight chuckles. “Very well.” He signals the barkeep and drops a handful of leaves on the counter. “Two drinks,” he politely requests, and turns back to his companion. “Now, then. Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Wow, you’re forward today,” the thief scoffs. “What are you, my _dad_?”

Olberic hums. “If that is what you want me to be.”

“What do you _want_?” Therion demands, his frustration deepening. “If you’re talking about that last fight, I’m fine.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” the ex-knight says, giving the thief a knowing look.

“Okay,” Therion huffs, tugging at his scarf nervously. “So.”

“So?”

“ _So_ , why are you here?”

“I merely came to see how you were doing,” Olberic explains. “You seemed troubled when you left.”

His companion shrugs dismissively. “Yeah, well it’s none of your business. I don’t need your concern.” With that, he turns his back to the warrior.

Olberic hums thoughtfully as the barkeep places their two drinks on the counter. He gratefully accepts his and takes a long sip from it.

“Therion,” he says after a minute of silence.

“I’m not drinking that,” the man in question retorts. “Not if you’re paying for it.”

The ex-knight sighs.

“Besides,” the thief continues, slowly turning himself back around. “Shouldn’t you be resting? That hit you took for me…”

“Ah, so that’s what this is about,” Olberic chuckles.

Therion swears into his scarf.

“In any case,” the warrior places a firm hand on his shoulder. “Rest assured, I am fine. Between Ophilia and Alfyn, I was feeling better in no time.”

The younger of the two coughs awkwardly. “Well, that’s… That’s good to hear. Glad you didn’t seriously injure yourself because of me.”

The two men fall silent after that. Therion eventually takes a sip from the ale Olberic ordered, as his fellow traveler eyes him attentively. Finally, about halfway through his drink, the thief locks eyes with his companion for the first time that night, a sharp scowl twisting his lips.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?”

The warrior emerges from his thoughtful trance. “Forgive me, Therion.” A pause. Then, “Would you like to talk about it?”

Therion almost chokes on his drink. “Excuse me?”

“You are disturbed by the fact that I took a hit for you.”

“Hell no.” He takes another sip of his ale. “Who says I’m bothered by it, anyway?”

Olberic mirrors the thief’s action. “Why else would you be trying to avoid me?”

Therion huffs and breaks eye contact. “Alright, fine.” He empties his tankard. “Anything else you want me to admit?”

The ex-knight smiles, satisfied. “That will be all.”

With that, he stands to leave, but is stopped by Therion’s firm grip on his arm.

“...Wait a minute,” he mutters.

Olberic slowly returns to his seat.

“Yes?”

Therion releases his arm. “Answer me this,” he says, before taking a deep breath. “Why do you do it? I mean, why do you bother sticking around these people?” He pauses, his expression darkening. “...How do you know they aren’t just keeping you around for your skill? And that they’ll abandon you as soon as you’re no longer useful to them?”

By this point, the thief has his hands curled into fists so tightly his knuckles are white. His shoulders are trembling slightly, and his visible eye suddenly becomes dull. Olberic furrows his brow in concern, but says nothing.

Finally, Therion speaks up again. “I mean… Just…” He sighs. “I don’t get it.”

At this, the ex-knight is rendered speechless. He opens his mouth to speak, but any and all words suddenly vanish in the suffocating tension between them.

He opts to order a second drink instead, as he attempts to formulate a response to the thief’s questions. Only when the barkeep slides his refill across the wooden counter does Therion break the silence.

“...Aren’t you going to say something?”

Olberic sighs. “Forgive me,” he says, shaking his head. “I was merely...unsure of how to answer.”

The younger of the two scoffs, fidgeting with his scarf. “You know what? Never mind.” He turns his head in the opposite direction. “I should leave.”

With that, Therion shakes his head and stands, ready to do just that. He hesitates before turning, almost as if expecting Olberic to stop him, but the warrior makes no sound until he’s already halfway to the door.

“Therion,” he calls, his tone softer than usual.

The thief stops in his tracks. He slowly cranes his neck to face his fellow traveler, knitting his eyebrows in uncertainty.

“Er...y-yes?” he answers, failing to ignore the growing pit in his stomach. He forces his feet forward, finally returning to Olberic’s side.

The ex-knight rests his arms on the counter. “For eight years, I pondered my purpose, after the fall of Hornburg. Every day when I looked in the mirror, I saw someone who was not myself.” He pauses. “But then, I was given the opportunity to protect those dear to me, and I decided that was my purpose. To act as a shield for those who cannot protect themselves.”

Therion faces his companion. “What are you-”

“Therion,” Olberic says his name again, his voice once again completely void of frustration or annoyance. “You asked me why I choose to travel with these individuals,” he explains. “And this is my answer.”

The thief tugs his scarf up to hide part of his face. “Olberic, I…”

“Listen to me, Therion. I have something worth fighting for. _That_ is why I’m here.”

This time, it’s Therion’s turn to be rendered speechless. He squares his shoulders and shrinks further into his scarf, no longer willing to engage in further conversation. When five minutes pass with nothing but silence between them, he finally decides it’s time to head out.

He clears his throat awkwardly. “Well, uh… Thanks, I guess. I’m… I’m gonna go.”

With that eloquently said, he stands and makes his way out the door, but not before sliding a handful of leaves on the counter to pay for Olberic’s second drink.

* * *

 The arid atmosphere of Wellspring is hot, even after nightfall. Therion almost considers removing his scarf and shawl, but decides against it. He's just heading back to the inn; five more minutes in the heat won't kill him.

As he walks, however, those five minutes turn into ten, and soon enough, he's begun strolling through the entire town, his brain refusing to ignore what Olberic told him earlier. How can he say something like that? Doesn't he know the dangers of helping others?

The thief finally takes off his scarf and shawl to tie them around his waist. He makes a noise that's a mix of a sigh and a frustrated groan and continues walking.

"What does he know...?" he mutters to himself. "It's not like he's been through what I have." He kicks a nearby rock. "You can't trust anyone. The minute you start to help someone, they'll take advantage of you and use that to get what they want. They don't really care about you." He sighs. "Lend someone a hand and they want the whole damn arm."

A light breeze passes by, and Therion stops for a moment before shaking his head and resuming his pace.

People are selfish, and that's just how the world is. He decided that a long time ago. Surely Olberic has learned _something_ from the incident with Miguel two weeks ago; poor Alfyn was devastated and didn't really bounce back until two days after the fact. If there's anything to take away from that experience, it's that some people just aren't worth fighting for.

...Especially people like him. Olberic can take hits for him all he wants, but in the end, he's nothing but a wretched, disgraceful thief who doesn't deserve anything the travelers have given him.

Honestly, why do they even care?

**Author's Note:**

> Theri pls why can't you just let them love you


End file.
